


the give and take

by andnowforyaya



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Crushes, Dom/sub, Kink Exploration, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-28 23:38:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21400540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andnowforyaya/pseuds/andnowforyaya
Summary: The more Kun knows Ten, the more he realizes he doesn’t know much about him at all.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Qian Kun
Comments: 75
Kudos: 677





	the give and take

**Author's Note:**

> thank you all you kunten fuckers for your support <3
> 
> fyi this contains dom ten/sub kun. you've been warned.  
#

Fifteen minutes after the doors to the lecture hall have closed, right when Kun is expecting him, a student, his face hidden under the hood of a lilac sweater that swallows his small frame, nudges open the door and carefully shuts it to make as little noise as possible before ducking down behind the last row of stadium-style seats and crawling into the chair at the end of Kun’s row. Once he settles in, he brings down his hood, revealing cropped, silver hair and a pair of round, gold-rimmed spectacles sitting on the bridge of his nose. Silver studs decorate the shell of his ear.

Kun leans across one of the seats -- two empty seats separate them -- and asks quietly, “Rough night?”

The other boy turns to him with a scowl on his lips. “Excuse me?”

Kun flushes, backpedaling at his attempt at conversation. “I mean -- I just mean, you’re late.”

“Yeah. I’m aware,” he says.

“I -- I took notes.” Kun swallows and sits up a little straighter, gesturing to his laptop he’s got propped up on the attached desk. “I can send them to you?”

“It’s just a couple minutes.” He turns to the front of the room, where the professor is starting to talk about what they should already know about financial forecasting models if they want to keep up in this class.

“Yeah,” Kun says a little hotly, unsure why the other student is being so abrupt and rude when Kun is trying to be nice. Make a connection. Maybe invite him for a coffee at the cafe that opened up a few blocks south of the university gates. “A couple of minutes in every lecture, though.” He notices the other stiffen, his arms crossed in front of himself with his elbows on the table and his shoulders tight. 

“You want to send me all your notes?” His eyes cut across Kun’s, sending a strange but not unpleasant shiver down Kun’s spine.

“Maybe,” Kun hedges. He doesn’t remember offering up _ all _of his notes.

The other chews on his bottom lip in thought, eyebrows knitting together and creating a wrinkle between them. “What do you want for the notes?”

Kun’s eyes widen. “Want? Well, I’d need your email…” He trails off before deciding to throw caution to the wind, continuing, “And maybe we could get coffee after class? You know, to go over the notes.”

The other considers him for a long moment, and somehow Kun feels more thoroughly scrutinized by his gaze than by those full-body scanners at airport security. Finally, the other boy nods and opens his notebook, scribbling something onto the corner of a clean page and ripping it out. He folds it once and holds it up between two fingers so that Kun has to reach across the space between them to take it.

Kun unfolds the paper. _ leechaiyapornkul.chittaphon@columbia.edu _

“Leechaiya..porn…”

“Just call me Ten,” he whispers. “Now can you be quiet? I’m trying to pay attention to the lecture.” He crosses one leg over the other and stares resolutely ahead at the slide being presented on the screen, but Kun catches how his lips curl at the corners into a kittenish grin.

Kun smiles. “I’m Kun,” he offers.

“Okay, Kun,” Ten says.

.

Ten takes his coffee black. He doodles in the margins of all of his notes and sometimes these doodles are also designs for the online consignment jewelry store his sister runs out of their family home in Bangkok. “She’s the operations guru, and I’m the creative genius,” he says, sipping at his steaming coffee with his fingers delicately wrapped around the ceramic mug. He shows Kun some of his designs and Kun is impressed with them all. 

“But you’re doing an MBA?” Kun asks.

“Compromise,” is all Ten says. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Kun asks. He sips at the soy latte in his hands that is not the drink he ordered at the counter. He wanted a hazelnut almond latte but hadn’t said anything when the staff handed him the wrong drink. It’s not a big deal.

“You’re not doing an MBA, but you’re in this Hell-class with me.”

“How did you know?”

“Because you’re not in any of my other classes, Kun,” Ten says evenly. The way his mouth forms around his name feels like cupping your hands around the flame of a candle. The light glints off the lens of his glasses when he looks up at Kun from underneath his lashes, his lips turned down in a slight pout.

“Oh, right.” Kun chuckles. “I’m in I/O Psych,” Kun explains. “Since I’ll be working primarily with businesses, I thought it would be good to get at least a basic understanding of how the finance side of things work.”

Ten hums in understanding, leaning forward onto the table. “Why I/O Psych?”

Kun clears his throat and spills out the elevator pitch he’s perfected by way of dozens of phone calls and interviews with admissions officers in his application process for grad school. “I’m interested in what pushes people to do better, to perform at their best. What are the environments and conditions that support them, and how can organizations and companies maximize their resources to do this? And people are always changing, so the work is never done. There will always be more to learn and to try. That’s why.”

Ten grins at him with slightly narrowed eyes, scrutinizing him again, and just as Kun starts to feel like his seat is growing too hot to be comfortable, Ten says, “And the non-interview answer?”

Kun’s cheeks turn pink. He looks down at his drink, at the blob of soy milk foam at the top that had been in the shape of a leaf, earlier. “I didn’t really know what to do with my psychology degree,” Kun admits. “And this path seems...useful.”

“So you want to be useful,” Ten concludes.

Kun’s pink cheeks start to flame as the remark makes a hard, uncomfortable pit form in Kun’s belly. “That’s a little -- that’s like -- I mean--”

“Calm down,” Ten says. His hand falls over Kun’s on the table, and Kun shuts his mouth in surprise. “It’s just an observation, not a judgment.”

“Well, you observed something about me within five minutes that I’ve been trying to come to terms with for years,” Kun mutters. He stares at the way Ten’s palm is resting over Kun’s on the table. His skin is dry and warm. Comfortable. “Uh.” Kun’s hand twitches and Ten quickly retracts his own, grinning a bit sheepishly.

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m pretty physical with my friends.”

“Are we friends now?”

“Sure.” He cocks his head to the side, the grin on his face turning curious. “Unless you wanted something different?”

Kun laughs, his nerves taking over. “I have no idea what to say right now,” he admits.

Ten says, “It’s okay. This was nice. Take me out for coffee again. You know, to review your notes. Same time next week?”

“Yeah,” Kun agrees readily, nodding and watching with hazy confusion as Ten stands and starts to pack up his things -- his notebook and his pens go into his tote, and he takes a pair of AirPods out of his hoodie pocket and stuffs them into his ears.

“I’ve got an appointment to get to,” Ten explains. “I’ll see you around, Kun.”

.

The more Kun knows Ten, the more he realizes he doesn’t know much about him at all. He never seems to have time for anything more than coffee after class, and once, dinner at Kun’s place with Sicheng making a guest appearance, and this is only after much cajoling and promises of authentic, home-made seafood claypot stew. Ten’s always rushing from place to place, and brushes off questions about his job, or workload, or other friends like dust off his shoulder.

After a couple of weeks of this, Kun comes to accept that he probably won’t get much more than this tepid friendship with Ten, and he mopes about it to Sicheng for two days before agreeing to go out with Sicheng and their friends for a night of bar hopping and clubbing to “forget a love that never had the chance to blossom” (as his roommate put so eloquently).

Kun wouldn’t say that he enjoys the club. He enjoys being with his friends, and he enjoys it when he inevitably drinks enough to find himself out on the dance floor, jumping to the bass-driven music and grinding with anybody who will hold him by his waist. But something about the club atmosphere always makes him feel grimy and used the morning after, especially if he thinks too hard about how shamelessly he’d pushed his ass into a handsome stranger’s hands. 

The antidote to this, of course, is to drink so much that he can’t remember anything at all. Great!

At some point during the night, the music ringing in his ears and the floor starting to sway, Kun leaves his friends to go to the bathroom. The line moves quickly, but he gets turned around on the way back, and when he tries to find his group he feels like the club is starting to close in on him. Were there this many people in here before? Surely this is a fire hazard! He pushes his way through the crowd, needing to stick out his elbows to make space and very nearly starting a fight with someone he accidentally jostles.

“Just!” Kun shouts at the angry-looking man in front of him. “Looking! For my! Friends!”

“You’re drunk, dude,” is the response, and he makes way for Kun to get to the bar when Kun mimes that he needs water.

He all but collapses against the bar and breathes in sweet, open air on a deep inhale. He catches sight of himself in the mirrored wall behind the bar and almost doesn’t recognize his reflection. His hair is tousled and wild, and the sloppy grin on his face feels foreign. The bartender brings him a glass of water Kun doesn’t remember ordering, but he gratefully chugs it down, and it cools him from the inside out.

When he turns around to survey the crowd, hoping to catch sight of Lucas or Sicheng -- both are tall, so they can’t be _ that _hard to find -- his eyes pass over a head of cropped silver hair high up on the second floor VIP lounge.

Kun stares.

Is that Ten up there? He squints into the distance and makes out the small figure in a black suit jacket, cut slim and sharp, a sliver of naked skin at the waist. The man who might be Ten turns and leans with his back to the railing, relaxed and commanding. In front of him, there’s another figure. Kun squints again, harder, and sees a man on his knees in front of probably-Ten. He watches with wide eyes as the man on his knees bends over to kiss Ten’s shoes, to kiss the ground at his feet. 

“What…”

“Hey, pretty,” someone says at Kun’s side. Kun jolts back to his reality and nearly snaps his neck to look at the man beside him. He’s about as tall as Lucas, but not nearly as handsome. Not that Kun’s only interested in looks, but he’s feeling a particular kind of way tonight. Kun wrinkles his nose at him.

“Hi,” Kun answers nonetheless.

“What are you drinking?” 

“Water,” Kun says, innocent while knowing he looks anything but.

“Well, that won’t do,” the stranger says. “Let me--”

“I have to find my friends,” Kun interjects, not wanting this to go on for any longer than it has to. “Bye.” He steps away from the bar and shakes off the hand that chases after him, losing the guy quickly in the crowd. Luckily, Sicheng and the others have been looking for him, and he stumbles into Lucas within moments.

“Kun!” Lucas shouts, hugging him close. “Oh my god, we thought you went home with someone.” Kun looks up from Lucas’ chest, craning to see the figures in the VIP lounge, but no one is hanging by the railing anymore. He frowns as Lucas cups his face with his hands. “Helloooooo? Did you see someone?”

“I thought I did,” Kun says.

“Up there?” Lucas asks, pointing. “Forget it. Those guys aren’t just buying bottles, you know. They’re like, _ rich _rich.”

Maybe it wasn’t Ten he’d seen, but someone else with silver hair and a tiny waist. Kun can’t get the image of the man kissing the ground at the other’s feet out of his head. He frowns, his head starting to hurt and his vision swimming. “I’m drunk,” he complains. “I want to go home.”

“We’re going!” Sicheng shouts from behind Lucas. “Just didn’t want to leave without you.”

He doesn’t remember how they get home, but he wakes up the next morning on his couch with Lucas drooling onto his shoulder, the taller boy's wrapped around Kun's middle.

.

Ten isn’t listening to what Kun is saying. Kun knows Ten isn’t listening because Ten is shaking out two packets of sugar in one hand and ripping them both open while staring out the window of the cafe. He misjudges when he turns the open packets over and ends up dumping half of the contents onto the table and half into his mug of coffee.

“Shit,” he mumbles, hastily scooping the granules into his palm and dumping these into his coffee as well. Then he pauses and stares as though realizing what he’s done. “Shit,” he says again.

“Everything okay?” Kun asks. They were reviewing Kun’s notes on the screen of his laptop between them on the table, but Kun lowers the screen now to give Ten his full attention. “You know you just put a handful of dirty sugar into your coffee?”

Ten sighs and picks up his mug, swirling the liquid inside. “Yup.”

“Do you...wanna talk about it?” Kun asks cautiously.

“Nope,” Ten says, starting to stand. “I’m gonna get another. You want anything?”

“Oh, uh. No.” Kun shakes his head when Ten pauses, hovering over their table until he hears Kun’s response. He watches Ten strut up to the counter with his mug, admiring the shape of his butt in those black jeans. Ten doesn’t often dress in form-fitting clothes, but when he does… Kun licks his lips, losing himself a little in the refined taper of Ten’s waist. 

A throat clears above him.

Kun blinks and quickly lifts the screen of his laptop again, pretending he’s just been skimming his notes and not ogling Ten’s fit as Ten slides back into his seat with a fresh mug of coffee. 

“What were you talking about?” Ten asks, gesturing to the screen. “I was distracted.”

“You know,” Kun says. “We don’t have to be all-business, all-the-time. We can talk about other stuff. Life stuff. I want to get to know you better.”

Ten stares at him blankly.

“For instance,” Kun says slowly like he’s speaking to a toddler. “I went out this weekend with some friends. We went clubbing. What did you do this weekend?”

Something about the way Ten drills into him with his stoic gaze makes Kun want to be stubborn, makes Kun want to dig his heels in. He purses his lips and waits for Ten to respond. 

Finally, with a huff and an eye-roll, Ten crosses his arms and sinks lower into his seat. “I was working all weekend,” he says. 

“Lucas thinks you work for a gang,” Kun teases with a grin.

Ten’s mouth pinches into a wrinkle. “It’s more like babysitting.”

Kun gasps and tries to keep the delight from his voice in case his eagerness to learn more about Ten scares him off. “You work with kids?”

“Most definitely not,” Ten says.

“So then,” Kun muses, using the power of deduction to guide him. “Immature adults?”

Ten hums noncommittally, but the beginning of an amused grin is forming at the corners of his lips. “Not necessarily.”

“The only thing I can think of is like, some kind of law firm. Where you had to sign an NDA. That’s why you can’t talk about what you do, right?”

Exuding calm, Ten smiles at Kun, and Kun knows he won’t get anything else out of Ten this morning. “Tell me about your weekend,” Ten says instead, in a tone that is so sure that it leaves no room for argument.

“Like I said, we went clubbing. There’s this place we like in Meatpacking. I drank _ way _too much. I danced so hard my thighs are still sore…” Kun remembers a flash of silver. “Oh! And I saw something weird.”

“Something weird?” Ten encourages him to elaborate with a nod.

“I was at the bar and I looked up at the VIP lounge and I saw — well, I thought it was you, at first.” Kun glances at Ten and notices him go very still. “There was this guy up there with silver hair. He was wearing a suit. He looked, uh, really good. From what I could tell, anyway.”

“Why was it weird?” Ten asks, hands curved around his coffee mug.

“I don’t know what people in VIP get up to, but I swear I saw someone kissing the ground at this guy’s feet. Licking his shoes. That wasn’t you, right? You said you were working.” Ten shakes his head and Kun continues, rambling now as the images from that night return to him. “I didn’t see much. But I definitely saw that. Oh! Do you think _ that _ was maybe something gang-related?”

Kun turns bright eyes toward Ten, who’s staring into the murky depths of his mug intensely. 

“Maybe it was something you weren’t meant to see,” Ten says.

Kun shrugs. “Yeah, but I saw it. I mean, the _ shoe licking _. Gross, right?”

“It’s not gross—”

“All the germs...it’s New York City, you know? Who knows where those shoes have been.”

“Just because you wouldn’t do it doesn’t mean it’s weird or gross. As long as it’s not hurting anyone, right?”

Kun takes in the spots of pink blush on Ten’s cheeks, the rigid line of his shoulders, and a lightbulb flickers on in his mind. He drops his voice into a low whisper and hazards, “Is it...do you think it was a sex thing?” 

“Kun!” Ten hisses, and Kun flinches back at the hurt that flashes across Ten’s face, but then it’s gone in the next moment, and Kun has to wonder if he imagined seeing it. Ten checks the screen of his phone. “Oh, wow. It got so late. I have to get going. I’ve got a thing.”

“Work?” Kun guesses, disappointment flooding his chest.

“I’ll see you in class,” Ten says, quickly scooping his things into his bag. He’s gotten quite good at leaving in a hurry, and the table is clear of his possessions in mere seconds. He stands.

“Ten—”

“Bye, Kun.” 

“Did I say something wrong?” Kun asks, but Ten is already gone.

.

Kun doesn’t see Ten for the rest of the week. During this time, he thinks about their conversation in the cafe and where he could have gone wrong — does Ten not like talking about gangs? Or shoes? Or sex? — and starts to form an idea. A hypothesis, perhaps. One that needs further investigation. So when Friday rolls around, he traps Sicheng in their shared bathroom before his roommate leaves for his morning shift at the library and says, “Let’s go clubbing this weekend.”

“Again?” Sicheng asks, adorably confused and squinting at Kun like he’s grown tentacles for ears. He tries to duck under Kun’s arms that are stuck out on either side of him, but Kun has made a barricade of himself in the door frame and blocks his attempts at escape.

“Same place,” Kun says.

Sicheng steps back to assess the situation and must see the determined gleam in Kun’s eyes. “Fine. But first round of drinks is on you,” Sicheng compromises.

“But I’m poor,” Kun whines.

“And I’m not?”

Kun considers this. “Grr. Okay. You’re lending me that top though. You know, the cropped shirt that makes my waist look tiny.”

Sicheng widens his eyes at Kun and whistles at him, low and impressed. “So it’s that kind of weekend?”

“We shall see,” Kun says, hoping.

.

The music pounds in his ears into a headache. Kun tries not to wince against the booming bass because moving his face too much will create crease lines in his makeup around his eyes and the corners of his mouth. He holds a drink in his hand and leans against the bar casually, scrolling through the crowd on the dancefloor with his gaze, his belly taut and exposed up to his navel.

“Not that I don’t love hanging out with you,” Sicheng says beside him, “but are we actually gonna dance or have you gotten so desperate that you’re just fishing for dick at this point?”

“Listen,” Kun says, “I am not desperate.”

“But you _ are _fishing for dick.”

“I’m waiting for someone,” Kun explains. He swirls his drink and watches the thin red straw move in circles. 

Sicheng turns to him with his mouth hanging open, exasperation in his eyes. “So I’m what? Moral support? Why didn’t you tell me I’m here to crash a date? _ Your _date?”

Kun shifts uneasily against the bar, not quite meeting Sicheng’s eyes. “I’m not sure he’s coming,” Kun mumbles, then shouts because he can’t hear shit unless it’s being screamed into his ear. “I’m not sure he’s coming! Or if it’s even him!”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Sicheng asks incredulously. “Did you meet him here last weekend?”

“Not really,” Kun says.

Sicheng rolls his eyes and throws his drink back in one long swallow, exposing the column of his throat. When he straightens, his cheeks are pink and his eyes are glittering darkly. “When you decide to let me into this little game you’re playing by yourself, let me know. Until then, we’ve had multiple drinks all by ourselves here and I look _ really _good tonight, so I’m going to go dance.”

“Alone?”

Sicheng taps the shoulder of the guy on his left. He’s tall, with a sharp jawline and blue eyes framed by thick, dark lashes. Sicheng positively shivers in delight. “Hey! Wanna dance?” he asks. The guy nods, looking Sicheng up and down, and Sicheng takes hold of his hand and drags him out onto the dance floor. “Bye, Kun!”

“Traitor,” Kun mutters, watching him go. 

Holding onto his bitterness, Kun finishes his drink and asks the bartender for another club soda with lime when he sees it. The flash of a head of silver hair at the base of the stairs going up to the VIP lounge.

“I am _ not _fishing for dick,” Kun reminds himself as he fixes his shirt and runs his fingers through his hair. He leaves his drink on the counter and struts to the stairs, clearing his throat to warm up his voice. 

There’s a bouncer, a muscular woman who towers over Kun, at the stairs, as well as a velvet black rope across the rails. She eyes Kun as he approaches and holds out her arm to bar access to the dark staircase. “VIP only,” she grunts.

“Oh, I know!” Kun says cheerfully. “I just wanted to say hi to someone? I just saw him go up. Ten?” He leans over her arm as much as he can, peering up the stairs and seeing the lines of a familiar-looking back. “Ten?!” he shouts. “Is that you?”

The figure on the stairs pauses. He steps back and turns, and the way he glances at Kun makes Kun feel like Ten’s kicked him right in the middle of his chest. 

Ten looks immaculate. His suit is tailored and dark, hitting across his shoulders perfectly, and diamonds glitter in his ears. Gone are his glasses, giving Kun full exposure to the hypnotizing depths of his eyes. Ten’s hands are in his pockets, his posture relaxed but commanding. There’s a handsome man beside him who stands almost a head taller. He steps down as well, until he’s on the stair below Ten. Kun watches as Ten runs his fingers along the other man’s shirt collar before yanking down to bring him to his eye level. Words are exchanged. The taller man nods frantically, eyelids fluttering shut when Ten cups his cheek with his other hand before giving him a light smack.

Kun doesn’t breathe as Ten descends the staircase.

The bouncer clears her throat when Ten pauses, eyes now on Kun, who feels like steel nails have been driven into his feet to keep him in place. “Mr. Lee,” she says. “This man says he knows you.”

_ You know me _, Kun tries to convey with his eyes. He’s dolled up and wearing less clothing than usual, but surely Ten recognizes him, right? He schools his expression into something sultry, something hopeful, and waits.

Ten’s gaze roams down Kun’s body then back up again, slow and deliberate. He pulls his wallet out of his pocket and takes out a wad of bills. Kun watches, confused, as Ten peels back a fifty from the stack and folds it up with one hand, putting the others away and back into his wallet. When Ten closes the distance between them and stuffs the bill into the waistband of Kun’s jeans, Kun can only stare, mind blank.

“Be a good boy and meet me in the bathroom in ten,” Ten says. “And take care of that while you’re at it.” His eyes flick down to Kun’s crotch and Kun’s face flares with heat. He’s half hard in his jeans without anyone even touching him. The realization that Ten knows, that he’s seen him, that he’s _ pointing it out _ in front of the bouncer, makes his belly constrict and his balls tighten. 

Then Ten turns around and walks back up the stairs, not even bothering to throw Kun a glance over his shoulder.

Kun exhales, stunned. When he has enough feeling in his legs to move again, he goes to the bathroom to take care of the problem in his pants.

.

The door to the stall bangs open as Kun is tucking himself back into his jeans. “Hey! What the—”

“Shut up and listen to me,” Ten hisses, his body pressed tight against Kun’s as he shoves Kun up against the wall of the stall. He curls his hands into fists around the collar of Kun’s shirt, pulling up on the fabric. The metal of the stall door grazing across Kun’s naked lower back feels like ice.

Kun freezes up, jaw clamping shut, something in between fear and arousal making his blood go hot inside of him. “Okay,” he squeaks.

“You can’t tell anyone about this,” Ten says.

“About what?!” Kun’s gasp becomes a groan when Ten rubs up against him, when his thigh pushes in between his legs. 

“What you saw,” Ten says. “It’s a secret. Not just for me, but for him, too.”

Kun holds up his hands. “I really don’t want to get involved in this mafia-business or whatever—”

“Promise me,” Ten says, pressing harder.

Kun screws his eyes shut. He can’t believe this is happening to him. He can’t believe Ten is here, looking _ this _hot, throwing Kun around like a doll, and Kun’s growing another boner in his pants in the face of potential danger and harm. And his curiosity is killing him. God.

“If you tell me what it is,” Kun manages in a tight voice. “I won’t say a word.”

Ten exhales like a pent up bull in the tense silence that follows. His hands loosen, and Kun sinks down onto Ten’s thigh wedged between his legs and tries not to ride him like he wants to so badly right now. “You want to know what this is?” Ten asks, his voice dropping low as he pushes up with his thigh.

“God,” Kun whimpers, hands falling to Ten’s shoulders.

“You want to ride my leg like a little slut, and you want to know?”

“God,” Kun whispers again, shaking with the effort of not grinding his hips against the sweet pressure Ten’s giving him. “I wanna know.”

Ten brushes the tip of his nose past Kun’s jawline and under his ear, where his breath fans hot across Kun’s skin. “I’m a Professional Dom,” Ten says.

Kun’s eyes snap open as he’s brought out of the moment. “A what now?”

Ten has pulled back so they can look at each other, though for the first time this night, Kun is noticing a blush on Ten’s cheeks. “A Professional Dom,” Ten explains. “I have clients who are my subs. That’s what I’m doing tonight. I’m working.”

Hysteria starts to build in Kun’s stomach. It bubbles up inside him through his guts and his lungs, escaping from his esophagus and throat and mouth in wild, unrestrained laughter. He laughs so hard he throws his head back against the stall wall. “What?!”

“Kun,” Ten says tersely, his whole expression puckered like he’s just sucked on a lemon. “Please.”

“A Dom?” Kun asks, maybe a little too loudly because Ten flinches at the question. “What, so, you sleep with people for money?”

Ten narrows his eyes at him. “I knew you wouldn’t understand. It’s not a sex thing. Not always.”

“So you _ do _,” Kun concludes aloud.

Ten places his hands on Kun’s shoulders and holds him firmly against the wall. “Kun,” he says. “My clients’ confidentiality is really, really important. And so is mine. You weren’t meant to see this tonight, or any other night. Just pretend like you didn’t and go.”

“But I did,” Kun protests, his hands coming up to fall over Ten’s. “I can’t just pretend.”

“Please, for my sake?” Ten asks. It is the first time this evening Ten has sounded unsure of himself, and Kun falters just a little.

He jumps when someone begins to knock on the stall door frantically.

“Master Lee?” someone is saying. “Master Lee, are you in there? Please come out. I’ve been waiting…”

Ten sighs again, and this time it is fraught with something Kun can’t quite place. He smoothes the wrinkled collar of Kun’s shirt and swipes his thumb under Kun’s chin. “That is my client,” Ten says. “Not a word.”

Kun nods.

They push the door open and the man who was on the steps before with Ten is standing before the stall, head bowed slightly. He has a drink in his hand, and he presents the glass to Ten as soon as Ten emerges from the stall.

“This better be a Hendrick’s,” Ten says, snatching the drink from him. His aura balloons like a cape swirling around him. He sucks up all the attention in the room, and Kun feels like he has whiplash from witnessing this sudden shift in demeanor.

“It is, Sir,” the taller man whispers. “I made sure.”

Without warning, Ten reaches forward and cups the man by his dick, squeezing lightly as he sips his drink. “It’s delicious, Johnny baby,” he coos as the man tries very hard to stay upright. Kun can see the strain on his face. He can _ relate _to the strain on his face.

“Who’s he?” Johnny asks, bravely raising his eyes to meet Kun’s.

“No one,” Ten says. “He’s no one.”

They leave. For the second time that night, Kun has to take care of the problem in his pants.

.

Kun wakes up to Sicheng banging around in the kitchen, the sound of pots and pans clanging aggravating his eardrums. He stretches blearily, limbs heavy and exhaustion weighing over him. After his interaction with Ten last night, Kun had been confused and turned on and frustrated. 

“_ I knew you wouldn’t understand _,” Ten said to him. Why not? What is it about Kun that gives off the impression he wouldn’t understand what Ten does to make money? Kun knows plenty about kinks and sex. He has what he considers kinky sex all the time! So he’d left the club with Sicheng and come home, washed up, put himself into his comfiest boxers, and burrowed into bed with his phone in front of his face.

_ Professional Dom, _ was his first incognito search.

He read up on a couple of definitions but nothing seemed to be processing in his scattered brain. He kept imagining himself being flogged by Christian Grey from _ 50 Shades _and it was doing nothing but interrupting his concentration. He clicked around on his phone, skimming articles and images, not yet daring to watch any of the videos that came up. And then he came across a short, succinct article that laid out reasons why someone would consider hiring a Professional Dom. Kun read it.

You might hire one to escape the daily grind. You might hire one to engage in fantasy or role-play. You might hire a Professional Dom to explore kink without fear or shame, in a safe, sane, and consensual environment. You might hire a Professional Dom because you can’t find these things in your existing relationship, or you need help to bring these things to light. 

Kun floundered in bed for a while after that, thinking about Ten. _ “You want to ride my leg like a little slut, and you want to know?” _ he’d said. Kun shivered, remembering how his breath had felt against his neck, remembering the control he’d had over Kun just by putting his thigh between his legs. Kun couldn’t think of the last time he’d felt like that so quickly, hot and cold all over, almost afraid of how aroused he was. He thought kinky sex was all about handcuffs and leather but maybe he would have spontaneously come in his pants if Ten had called him his little slut one more time. In public.

He hadn’t touched himself last night if only because his dick was still sensitive from earlier, but he touches himself now, snaking his hand under the covers and under his boxers. He’s soft but filling quickly. Kun curls onto his side, wets his palm with his tongue, and gets to work. He imagines them in that bathroom filled with red light, squeezed into a stall, Ten’s hand cupping Kun’s face by the jaw as he slides his leg between Kun’s. _ “You think you know what you want,” the Ten in his mind says, “but you have no idea.” _

Kun works his hand over himself faster, dragging precum up and down his length. He presses his thumb down over his slit and bucks into his hand with a groan. 

_ “Faster,” Ten says. “I wanna see you come like the dirty little slut you are.” _

“Fuck,” Kun whimpers, closing his eyes tight as his dick twitches in his fingers. He’s close. 

“Rise and shine! I made sausage and eggs!” Sicheng barges in through his bedroom door with a flourish. 

Kun’s eyelids fly open, and he screams. “AH! Get the fuck out!”

“Ah!” Sicheng screams back. “Lock the fucking door, dude!”

“Don’t just charge in like that!” Kun retorts as Sicheng backs away quickly and slams the door shut again. 

Despite how humiliated Kun feels, he can’t stop moving his hand over his dick. He’s too close. Just a bit further— 

_ “You like the idea of him seeing.” _ Ten’s imagined voice echoes in his mind as he comes all over his fingers and into his boxers, his face as red as a beet.

.

Fifteen minutes after the professor has started his lecture, Ten slinks in through the back doors and his seat at the end of Kun’s row, head bowed, hood up. He takes out his notebook and pens and doesn’t look over at Kun even once, his eyes hidden behind the glare reflected off the lens of his glasses.

Kun feels a knot building in his throat. He clears it, hoping the noise will make Ten look at him. It doesn’t. 

He tries again to no avail. Ten just hunches over himself even more, making himself as small as possible in his seat.

Third time’s a charm, right? Kun clears his throat again, eyes darting to Ten’s form to watch for acknowledgement. 

“Do you need a cough drop?” A girl turns around in her seat in the row in front of him and holds out a lozenge wrapped in yellow paper. “Here.”

Kun takes it sheepishly. “Sorry,” he whispers, his voice hoarse.

“No problem. Try to drink more fluids today, yeah?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

She turns back around and Ten snickers in his seat. Kun glares at him, but his glare softens when he sees that Ten has finally brought down his hood. His hair is so black it’s nearly blue, and his glasses do nothing to hide the dark circles under his eyes. He offers Ten a tentative smile, which Ten returns, just as tentatively.

“You’re not subtle,” Ten whispers.

“I wasn’t trying to be,” Kun returns.

Ten laughs silently, his head thrown back and his mouth wide open on a smile. Kun decides he likes the way he looks when he laughs like that. 

“Get coffee with me after class?” Kun asks.

Ten settles, his eyes half-lidded and his posture wary — still hunched over on himself, still with his arms crossed in front of his chest like a shield. “Are you sure?” he asks.

Kun nods.

Ten smiles again and Kun feels like he’s witnessing the crumbling of the walls of a great, fortified city. “Yeah. Alright.”

.

Unlike all the other times they’ve gone for coffee after class, when they sit down at a rickety table in the corner in front of a big window with their coffees, Kun doesn’t take out his laptop right away, and Ten doesn’t take out his notebook. They both know that class notes aren’t what they’ll be talking about today.

Kun warms his hands around his cup and sits primly in his chair, right on the edge with both feet on the ground, unsure where to begin. Meanwhile, Ten leans with his elbows on the table, mindlessly stirring his coffee with a wooden stirrer as he watches Kun from under the fan of his eyelashes.

God, but he looks good with black hair. The silver hair definitely made him stand out and highlighted the golden tone of his skin, but Ten in black hair just looks...sleek. Like a panther, Kun thinks, his mouth dry.

“So…” Kun begins hesitantly.

“So,” Ten chirps back.

“So…”

When Kun struggles to continue, Ten sighs and scratches the back of his neck irritably. “You’re weirded out, huh?”

“No!” Kun insists reflexively, immediately, his face starting to grow hot. “I’m not. I’m just. Adjusting. Surprised? I wasn’t — I didn’t know what you do...was a thing.” He locks gazes with Ten, hoping to convey with his eyes the emotion roiling inside of him that can’t be formed into words. “I’m not weirded out. I’m curious.”

Ten lifts one eyebrow elegantly in question. “Curious?”

Kun swallows, wetting his lips with his tongue. He doesn't miss the way Ten's eyes flick to his mouth to catch the movement, and it makes his heart leap up into his throat. "I guess so," he says.

Ten takes a sip of his coffee and peers out through the window, his expression carefully blank and unreadable.

Kun is reminded of a time he went to see his professor for office hours in undergrad, anxious because he wasn't understanding the readings or the assignment and he was certain that his professor was going to call him out for being an idiot. Luckily, his professor had only asked him to take a seat and then he'd guided Kun through the assignment in more detail before setting up some private tutoring with one of his TAs for the class for additional support.

Kun eyes the way the morning light cuts across Ten's profile and wonders if Ten knows exactly how he looks right now, half of his face thrown in shadow while the sun glances off his golden frames, the studs in his ears glittering like precious stones to be mined. He doesn't think tutoring is something that will help him this time around.

His heart stops when Ten turns back to him with a slow, easy grin on his face and says, "Well, what do you want to know?"

What _ did _ Kun want to know?

How did it feel to be under Ten's control? How did his clients find him? Was he on a website or something? How did he get started in this? What did he get paid? Was sex part of the equation some of the time, most of the time, or all of the time?

"Don't think too hard, Kun," Ten says with a light chuckle as he takes another sip from his cup. "Just ask what you want to ask."

"There's so much, though," Kun admits.

"Then ask the first thing that comes to mind."

"Is this why you kept your distance from me?" Kun's question tumbles out of his mouth and a feeling of horror sours in his belly. "Because you didn't think I'd understand?"

The cup makes a soft sound when Ten puts it down. Even so, Kun flinches, afraid he's overstepped, but Ten doesn't look upset at all. Just tired and a little resigned. Maybe a tiny bit amused.

Ten shrugs. "Honestly? Maybe that was part of it, but I don’t know. I’m hard to get to know. I don’t like letting people in."

"Why?" Kun asks, because if he's kicked down the door to Ten's walled city, then he might as well walk through it.

"Because people can hurt you," Ten says, surprising Kun with his forthrightness. "Because people hurt each other."

"But not all the time."

"No, not all the time."

Kun pauses with his heart hammering in his ears. His breath is heavy as though he's just sprinted down the block. He recognizes that this is something Ten doesn't like to talk about, or to talk about often. "Did someone hurt you?"

Ten's smile turns fake and stiff. Kun is starting to be able to see now when he's putting on airs, and this smile is like a mask he wears, incomplete because he can't hide the shadows in his eyes. Ten says, "Sorry, that's classified information."

"Oh yeah? How do I access that level of information?" Kun asks, injecting playfulness into his tone. He bites into his bottom lip to hide his grin when he sees Ten's eyes brighten in response.

"You'll have to successfully complete a couple of missions," Ten says. "Prove your mettle. Then maybe when you've earned your stripes, I'll tell you."

"Agent Qian, then, reporting for duty." Kun salutes, and Ten snorts out laughter, which makes Kun laugh, which makes Kun knock his coffee askew, spilling scalding liquid all over the table. Ten's up quickly, grabbing napkins from the counter and hurrying back as coffee leaks from the table and seeps into Kun's pants.

"You're a mess," Ten mumbles. He throws a wad of napkins into Kun's lap after wiping up the spill on the table. Kun's face flames.

Kun dabs at himself gingerly, frowning. He has a pair of gym shorts he could change into in his book bag, but he'd rather not prance around in the slight chill of fall with his bare legs out this morning. Ten is still finding tiny puddles of coffee on the table that he soaks up with a napkin, and the diligent care he puts into the task makes Kun fill with tenderness. Kun reaches out to take hold of the other's wrist, freezing his movements.

"I’m sorry I laughed the other night," Kun tells him. "It was just because I didn't understand. But I'm sorry I laughed because that must have hurt you, and I don't want to hurt you. I want to...understand." Ten's wrist is slim, and Kun's fingers fit perfectly around it. He can feel his pulse thrumming steadily under his skin.

"Apology accepted," Ten says. To Kun's disappointment, he pulls his wrist out of Kun's grasp, but the feeling remains for only a moment, because then Ten says, "Your place is off-campus, right? Do you want to come to mine? I'm just a couple of blocks away and I can lend you a pair of sweats..."

Kun stares at him, his words processing in his mind slowly. When it finally clicks, he nods with enthusiasm. "That -- that would be great. Thank you."

Ten smiles at him, real and genuine, unmasked.

.

Ten’s place is stunning. A true one-bedroom in the Upper West Side, with a doorman in the lobby who greets him by name and separate elevators for separate sections of floors. Kun’s place he shares with Sicheng is hardly a two-bedroom, and the kitchen is the size of most people’s closets. But that was something both he and Sicheng had decided didn’t matter much to either of them; they wanted a nice place to sleep and shower and occasionally to have people over, so they didn’t really need too much space. Now, though, Kun is seeing how the other half lives.

“This is _ your _apartment?” Kun asks with wonderment when Ten opens the door and the wooden floors are the color of slate. A photograph of a cityscape that Kun doesn’t recognize hangs in the short entryway between the front door and the living room. Kun sneaks a glance into the kitchen on the way in, and sees that the appliances all look shiny and new, and also that three of Kun and Sicheng’s kitchen could fit into Ten’s. 

“It’s...well,” Ten says before going quiet. He guides Kun into the living room, where he takes Kun’s bag and drops it onto the black leather couch. 

Kun wanders over to where there’s a panel built into the wall and presses one of the buttons. The lights in the living room turn on. Another press, and the lights dim. He presses another button, and the shades in front of the windows slowly part, tucking themselves into the walls and allowing warm sunlight to swarm in. 

“You can ask Alexa to do that, too,” Ten says wryly.

“Oh my god, Alexa!” Kun calls out to the ceiling. “Play us some music.”

Alexa responds with whatever Ten had been playing earlier, which turns out to be some light R&B. The music fills the living room as it filters out of the speakers tucked into the corners and walls. 

“You have so much space,” Kun marvels aloud, spinning in a slow circle in the room. 

“And you haven’t even seen the bedroom, yet.”

Kun stills as a shiver lances up his spine as he realizes Ten is watching him from the edge of the living room, hands on his hips, his eyes like steel. Kun licks his lips. “Can I see it?”

“We’ll have to get you out of those wet pants, first,” Ten says. He turns on his heel and beckons at Kun like he’s a dog. “Come.”

Ten disappears into the shadows beyond his bedroom door, and Kun follows, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. When he steps across the threshold, he sees Ten sitting on the edge of his sprawling king-sized bed, his thighs splayed wide as he leans back onto his hands. Kun pulls up short, unsure where to go, what to do, the air between them thick and heavy.

Ten says in a low, even murmur, “You said you wanted to understand what I do, right? I can show you. I can show you right now. Would you like that?” He tilts his head ever so slightly in question, in invitation.

Kun can feel sweat gathering at his hairline as his heart picks up speed in interest. Ten looks so irritatingly sure of himself, and Kun loves it. He has the sudden urge to crawl right in between Ten’s knees and pillow his cheek on his inner thigh. He nods.

“I need to hear you say it, baby,” Ten says.

“Yes, I’d like that,” Kun responds, though it feels more like a reaction or a reflex. Like Ten is a magician and Kun is the hat spitting out endless scarves at his will.

“Good,” Ten says, smiling now. He’s taken off his glasses, Kun realizes with a skip in his heart. Ten pats his thigh and beckons Kun over again.

“I’m—” Kun hesitates, flushing.

“You’re what, baby?”

“I’m bigger than you,” Kun says quietly.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t come over here and sit on my lap. Or ride my thigh like I know you want to. Don’t worry. We’re just gonna talk for now.” Ten pats his thigh again. “If it makes you really uncomfortable, you can just sit next to me.”

A choice. 

Kun considers his options and decides if he’s really going to do this right, he might as well do it properly, whatever ‘proper’ means and looks like. Maybe there isn’t really a proper way to do this at all? Maybe it was whatever he and Ten made of it. What had he read up on before, that stuff like this was all grounded in consent and safety? Maybe he should stop running around in circles in his own head and sit in Ten’s damn lap. 

Kun toes over to the bed and eases himself onto Ten’s thigh, finding the angle just a little bit awkward before Ten loops an arm behind the small of Kun’s back and secures him in place. Kun’s surprised to find that Ten isn’t as twiggy as he’d assumed; his thigh is quite meaty and muscled, and a rather comfortable seat. When a small shift in weight almost makes him fall off, he circles his arms around Ten’s neck for balance.

“Good boy,” Ten praises, and something happens in the circuitry of Kun’s brain, of his heart. He wants nothing more than to hear Ten say that again, to him, over and over. “Can I call you that?” Ten asks.

Kun nods again. Then, remembering what Ten had said before about needing to hear him, adds, “Yeah, you can.”

“What else can I call you?” Ten asks.

“I like _ baby _,” Kun offers up readily. That’s a no-brainer. It’s no secret that Kun enjoys being babied. Though he’s usually pretty organized and responsible in his work and school life — being a detail-oriented note-taker during lectures is but one example — outside of those structures Kun just wants to be pampered and taken care of. He often fantasizes about being someone’s trophy husband one day, obligated only to planning and throwing an annual charity gala and perhaps flying one of their three planes to far-off destinations every once in a while for a romantic weekend get-away where he can be further pampered and spoiled, just in a different location. 

“Mmhmm,” Ten hums in agreement. “What else?”

What else? Kun thinks about it. What else is there? Kun’s been called other pet names in his life — cupcake, pumpkin, doll — but none of those feel right to him in this context. He cringes at the thought of Ten calling him pumpkin with his dick down Kun’s throat. Then he blushes at the idea of Ten fucking his mouth. 

What had Ten called him at the club, in the bathroom? A little slut. _ His _little slut. Kun presses his thighs together to keep himself from squirming on Ten’s lap. “U-um,” he starts shakily. “Uh.”

“What is it? You can say anything you like.”

“Little slut,” Kun whispers.

A smile breaks across Ten’s face slowly. “Oh,” he breathes. “You like when I call you that?”

Kun nods. “Yes, I think so.”

“If you ever don’t like it, you tell me to stop, got it?”

“You’ll stop if I say so?”

“I will,” Ten promises. “I like using a color system. Green means good. Yellow means I’m starting to push into something you’re not sure about, or to slow down. Red means stop. Does that work for you?”

Green, yellow, and red. Like traffic lights. Simple enough. “Yeah.”

“I’ll check in with you often. I try never to get to Red. Your safety is really important to me. Your physical safety, _ and _emotional safety.”

Kun screws up his face in thought and slight confusion, pursing his lips. “Emotional safety?”

“You like when I call you little slut,” Ten explains. “I think you may be someone interested in exploring degradation. Or humiliation. Those can get heavy pretty quickly and take an emotional toll on you if we’re not careful. I don’t want you to think that the things I say during a scene, while we’re playing, are the truth.”

“You make it sound so...formal,” Kun says.

“Too formal?”

“No,” Kun says, scooting himself close to Ten’s body so that he can lay his head on Ten’s shoulder. “It’s kind of hot.”

Ten laughs. “Then we’re going in the right direction.” He allows Kun to rest against him, the slow rise and fall of his chest rhythmic like the waves of the ocean lapping at the beach. “Before we get started, how far do you want to go? Any hard limits?”

Kun breathes in the faint cologne that has settled into Ten’s skin at his throat. The gentle spice makes his head spin. The Ten in the club had been rough and demanding to the point of belittling, but he hadn’t crossed any lines for Kun that night. In his wild imagination, he’d been expecting Ten to reveal he had some sort of sex dungeon tucked away through a hidden door in his closet when he agreed to trying this, not this patient questioning and detailed communication. 

The way Ten lays it all out for him makes Kun feel...looked after. Cared for. Safe.

“I don’t know if I have any hard limits,” Kun says. “I want to go as far as you want to go.”

Maybe it’s Kun’s wishful thinking, but he thinks he feels Ten’s heart skip a beat at his words. Ten waits precious seconds before saying, “Let’s get you out of those pants, then, hm? Did you forget how messy you are right now, baby?”

Kun startles in Ten’s lap as his hands fly down to cover himself where the coffee has still not dried. 

Ten tsks at him, disappointed. “Get up. Take them off.”

“Right here?” 

“Right here.”

Kun stands, his whole body heating up as he takes a few steps away from the bed before turning a slow circle around to face Ten again. His puts his hands on the waistband of his jeans. “Here?” he asks again, to confirm.

Ten nods.

Kun unbuttons his jeans. Slides down the zip. Shimmies the dark denim from his hips. He pushes the fabric down his thighs and steps out of them when they bunch at his ankles, revealing creamy-colored skin and toned muscles in his legs. Goosebumps prickle across his bare skin, at odds with the heat building just underneath it. He meets Ten’s eyes and flushes deep red in color, all the way down his neck and over his chest. Ten’s gaze is dark and possessive, a hunger that he hasn't revealed before to Kun. It makes Kun feel especially sexy, to be desired like this.

“What color?” Ten asks in a low purr.

“What? Green,” Kun answers. “Green.”

A smug grin unfurls over Ten’s lips. “Oh no,” he says. “Your boxers are all wet, too.”

Kun’s hands fly to the elastic band of his boxers, under the bottom hem of the long-sleeved tee he’s wearing. “Should I take them off, too?”

“I think that would be best,” Ten says, watching Kun carefully. 

Kun doesn’t shy away from direct eye contact as he drags down the waistband of his boxers. His shirt falls back down to cover the very tops of his thighs as he strips himself of his underwear. He stands under Ten’s gaze, fighting the urge to pull his shirt down further. What will Ten say about him? Why is he being so quiet? He’s just sitting there, staring. Kun sweats as his dick catches on to what’s going on, twitching between his thighs.

“Baby,” Ten coos. “You’re so small and cute.”

Kun fights back a groan as blood swarms to the head of his dick. Kun knows he’s not small. If anything, he’s average, but he loves anything that makes him feel dainty. Others have shied away from talking to him like this, worried about insulting him. But Ten… how does he know? Kun cups his hands over himself and pushes his knees together, blushing furiously. “I am?”

“Don’t cover yourself, baby.” Ten sits up a little higher before standing slowly, his every movement sleek and sure, as he comes to circle Kun. “You’re beautiful. You deserve to be seen.”

“I do?”

Ten laughs softly, closing his arms around Kun from behind and tucking his chin over Kun’s shoulder. He folds his forearms over Kun’s lower belly. “You haven’t been told this enough if you’re asking me that,” Ten says. Kun leans back against Ten’s solid form, eyelids fluttering shut. The fabric of Ten’s pants rubs against the sensitive skin of the backs of Kun’s thighs, a reminder that Kun is naked from the waist down, vulnerable, while Ten is still fully clothed. “Let me show you what you look like right now,” Ten growls into his ear. “How pretty you are, all for me.”

He walks him over to the window. It’s a solid pane of glass stretching from the floor to the ceiling, just like out in the living room. Unlike in the living room, the curtains here are thick and layered, a set of heavy blackout curtains paired with a sheer, semi-transparent layer behind. Kun’s blood starts to pump faster in his veins as he realizes what Ten intends, but instead of fear, there’s anticipation, like he’s in the last car on a slow climb of the tallest peak on a rollercoaster. His belly swoops, and he holds onto Ten’s hands in an attempt to ground himself.

“Color,” Ten whispers.

“Green,” Kun says breathlessly.

Ten reaches out to press one of the touch-sensitive buttons in the panel in the wall. The blackout curtains slide back soundlessly and smoothly, like a hot knife cutting through butter. Kun gasps at the light that streams in, needing to throw his hands in front of his face to ward off the glare as his pupils adjust. Ten nudges him forward still, a solid presence behind him and rubs his hand over Kun’s front, then down, under his shirt, making Kun gasp again. Ten’s fingers are cold but warm quickly against Kun’s skin, and he shudders when Ten rakes his nails lightly across the skin under his navel.

“Put your hands down and look at yourself,” Ten commands. “Do as I say.”

Trembling now, Kun lowers his hands again. He’s met with the cloudy reflection of himself in the glass beyond the semi-transparent curtain. Ten’s bunched up his shirt, his hand now traveling up Kun’s sternum, his palm now resting over Kun’s pec. 

“Pretty baby,” Ten says as Kun’s knees wobble dangerously. 

Kun can see that he’s flushed all over, his cheeks glowing with color. His legs are pale against the dark fabric of Ten’s pants, and his dick is hard and pink at the head, as pink as his bitten lips.

“Pretty little slut.” Ten’s voice slithers over Kun’s body like silk, and Kun lets out a pathetic whimper as Ten has to catch him by the chest to keep him upright. “Let’s take a closer look, yes?”

Kun nods, whining in the back of his throat. “Yes, green. Yes, yes.”

“Good boy. You’re learning quickly.” Ten’s lips brush over the back of Kun’s ear and Kun groans. He wants Ten to kiss him. Will Ten kiss him? His lips feel like a brand, and Kun wants him to sear his lips all over his body. 

He’s never gotten off like this before. One night stands usually involve a drunken fondle and halfhearted hand jobs, and in his previous relationships Kun’s never had to _ wait _. The point of sex was the orgasm, wasn’t it? And Kun has always approached sex keeping that goal in mind.

Now, though, he’s re-evaluating his approach to a good time. He’s hard as a rock and Ten hasn’t even touched him yet, and his head is spinning in the best way. He’s ready for Ten to string him up any way he wants, to make him climb and climb and climb until he decides he’s ready for Kun to come down, because Kun can already tell the come down is going to be extraordinary. He salivates, thinking about it. 

Ten positions him in front of the window, right where the sheer curtains are parted. He puts Kun’s hands directly onto the glass and nudges Kun’s stance wider. Then he holds Kun by the hips and pulls him back slightly, so that Kun’s bent at the waist, ass exposed. Kun’s sweaty hands slip on the glass when Ten runs his palm over the globe of one cheek, just petting him. 

“You’re so good. You’d listen to anything I said, wouldn’t you?” Ten asks.

“Yes,” Kun responds desperately, jutting his hips back further, wanting Ten to touch him again. “I would. I will.”

“My pretty baby, being a slut for everyone to see.” Ten pulls back the sheer curtains on either side of Kun, so that all that is between him and the world now is clear, transparent glass. His reflection is barely visible because of the light streaming in, but Kun can make out his shape, his form, how ready he looks for Ten to fuck right into him. He wants that. Oh, he wants that so badly. “You want me to fuck you?” Ten asks as though he can read Kun’s mind. 

“Please,” Kun begs.

“Not today, baby,” Ten says, and Kun lets his head hang between his shoulders in frustration. “There’s a lot for us to talk about.”

“But I’ve been good,” Kun protests, throwing his gaze behind his shoulder to look at Ten pleadingly. “Haven’t I?”

Ten’s curved over his back in an instant, and Kun moans when he feels Ten’s bulge press between his ass cheeks, the fabric rough against such sensitive skin. “You’ve been so good,” Ten assures him. “You’re beautiful, and you’ve done so well. You make me so proud. But like I said, there’s a lot for us to talk about before I have the privilege of fucking you.”

“_ Ah, fuck, _” Kun moans when Ten grinds into him, making his desire known. His mouth waters and he throws his head back, wishing he could dig his fingers into Ten’s skin instead of scrabbling fruitlessly at the glass. Ten drags both hands up Kun’s sides and under his shirt as he pushes his hips forward again and rolls Kun’s nipples between his fingertips, pinching them into peaks. Kun squeezes his eyes shut, his dick leaking now, and so hard that it taps against his stomach.

“You’re dripping onto my floor,” Ten says.

Kun looks down at the dark spots staining Ten’s hardwood floor and a flood of shame washes over him. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, keeping his eyes low. He realizes how clearly he can see the sidewalk below them, twenty floors down. The people walking back and forth are tiny, the size of ants from this distance, but would they see him if they looked up? More precrum dribbles onto the floor. Spit gathers in his mouth. He wants to be wet. He wants Ten to stuff his fingers into his mouth and slick him up and fuck him so hard against the window that the glass cracks. He thinks about falling. He’s really, really high up right now. “Yellow,” he whispers, though it pains him to do so.

“It’ll be easy to clean up,” Ten say immediately, drawing him back from the window. He pulls the sheer curtains shut with one hand while spinning Kun around to face him, looking into his eyes. “Get on the bed, baby.”

Kun crawls onto the bed on hands and knees, unsure what Ten wants him to do.

“On your side, that’s it,” Ten instructs. “So good. So, so good.” Pride wells up inside of Kun’s chest at the praise. He settles onto his side, mewling happily and melting into the mattress when he feels Ten sidle up behind him, spooning him. “Poor baby, still so hard. Want me to touch you?”

“Yes,” Kun says quietly.

He groans when he feels Ten wrap his hand around his dick, the touch light and careful. Slowly, his grip tightens.

“You can come whenever you’re ready,” Ten whispers into his ear. His hand moves over Kun, slicked by the precum beading at the tip. “You deserve to. You were so good for me.”

“Oh,” Kun gasps, knees jumping up closer to his chest when Ten twists his wrist just right, and then does it again and again over his cock. “Fuck. Fuck, oh my god.”

“Baby has a nasty mouth,” Ten muses with a chuckle. “Might have to fix that.”

“Ah!” Kun’s back arches as Ten applies pressure and speed. 

“Then again,” Ten continues, “you’re just a little slut, so maybe you don’t know any better.”

Kun shouts as his climax wracks through his body and he spurts out ropes of thick, white cum over Ten’s sheets. Ten doesn’t let up, making Kun fuck his hand fast and hard until all Kun’s dick can manage is a weak dribble and until all Kun can hear is the ringing in his ears. His mind is static, white noise. He’s pretty sure that no oxygen is reaching his brain. As he heaves for breath, he curls in on himself and realizes that Ten is still holding him, still whispering into his ear. 

“That felt good, didn’t it?” Ten’s voice carves a pathway through his jumbled thoughts to reach him. “You were so good. I’m so proud of you. My baby…”

Kun whimpers and turns into the safe embrace of Ten’s arms, burying his face against Ten’s chest. “Ten...that was…” A shiver catches him off guard, and Ten holds him closer. From somewhere, Ten pulls a clean blanket and drapes it over Kun’s form. He looks up at Ten gratefully, and the fondness in Ten’s eyes makes something catch inside his chest. “Kiss me,” Kun pleads.

Ten cards his fingers through Kun’s hair and leans closer to kiss his forehead. 

“Not like that,” Kun whispers, letting his eyes fall shut. He feels tired to his bones.

“I’m sorry. As a rule, I don’t kiss my clients,” Ten says.

“I don’t want to be your client,” Kun says, still shivering under the blanket even as sleep threatens to overtake him.

Ten rubs his hand down Kun's back, over Kun's arms. He sighs. “Let’s talk after.”

.

When Kun comes to, the light streaming in through the bedroom window is golden and dim, and he’s wearing a clean pair of boxers. The spare blanket has been put away, and Kun is warm and cozy under the fluffy duvet, which looks to have been cleaned, its cover changed. Pop music is playing softly over the speakers, and the bedroom door is open. Kun sits up, rubbing the last of his nap from his eyes and throwing the covers off his body. 

He heads out in search of Ten. In the back of his mind he appreciates that the music was playing as he woke up, because it let him know that Ten was still around. He finds the other man on the couch in the living room tucked against the armrest, laptop perched on his thighs. He’s changed into a pair of sweats and a baggy sweatshirt, and he looks up when Kun leans against the door frame.

“Hey,” Ten says. The single syllable cuts right through Kun’s chest.

“Hi,” Kun says. He offers Ten a smile and relief rises within him when it is returned. With a grateful exhale, Kun pads forward into the living room and onto the couch, spreading himself over the cushions and resting his head on Ten’s lap. Ten, ever responsive, puts his laptop on the coffee table to make room. His hand finds its way to Kun’s neck, his palm over Kun’s pulse as Kun makes himself comfortable. “Hi,” Kun says again.

“How are you feeling?” Ten asks.

“Good,” Kun says with a grin. “Really, really good. How are you feeling?” Kun shifts so that he can see Ten, and takes his hand that was on his neck into his fingers, fiddling with them the way a cat might play with yarn. 

“Nervous,” Ten says.

Kun’s gaze darts to his in surprise. He can see the sincerity in Ten’s face, the slight furrow in his brow at odds with the soft depths of emotion in his eyes. “Why?” Kun asks.

“Because I’m not sure what you want from me,” Ten says.

“Want from you?” Kun sits up now, nearly pressed chest to chest with Ten, who doesn’t back away one millimeter. “What do you mean?”

Ten winds his arm behind Kun’s back but doesn’t pull him closer. “My line of work is based in transactions, Kun. There’s give and take. There are rules and lines you don’t cross. And I get the feeling you want to cross them.”

“That’s because I don’t want to be in your line of work, Ten,” Kun says. “I don’t want to be your client.”

“You said that earlier, too.”

“And I meant it.”

“Then what do you want to be?” Ten asks. His eyes flicker in the light. Kun is drawn to them, hypnotized. He feels Ten’s arm tighten behind him and moves with it, sinking into Ten’s lap. 

“I dunno,” Kun says as he moves his hips in a slow circle over Ten. “Your boyfriend?”

Ten gasps like the air was punched out of him. His fingers dig into the crests of Kun’s hips. “Kun, wait—”

Kun stills, pouting. “What?”

“You’re like sex on legs and I’m wearing a cage for tonight’s session and I can’t get sprung.”

“What? What’s a cage? What?!” Kun jumps off Ten like he’s a hot iron, and Ten groans. “Are you okay?”

“‘m fine,” Ten mumbles, draping the back of his hand over his forehead dramatically as he sinks deeper into the cushions. “Maybe one day I’ll show you.” There’s too much distance between them now, so when Ten reaches out with his other hand, Kun goes to him readily, tucking himself under Ten’s arm. “Are you sure about this? You don’t mind what I do?”

“Why would I mind?” Kun asks. “If anything, I love it. It’s exciting! You can show me so many things, and—” Kun catches how Ten’s expression twists into something a little bit like sadness, like disappointment, and adds “—I’m excited to go on dates with you. And to get to know you even better. Because I liked you before I knew you did this, too, and me liking you hasn’t changed.”

Bashful is a sweet look on Ten, his cheeks slightly flushed and his smile hidden in the corners of his mouth. He shines the full force of that expression directly into Kun’s eyes when he faces him with a beaming smile. “I liked you, too,” he confesses. “Ever since you corrected the professor on how to say your name properly.”

“That was the first day of class!” 

“Yeah,” Ten says. “I loved how ballsy you were.”

“I don’t believe it,” Kun says.

Ten closes the distance between them and kisses him on the mouth, pushing Kun into the cushions of the couch. It steals Kun’s breath away, and all Kun can do is reciprocate, breathing through his nose as Ten parts his lips so that Kun can lick into him. Ten’s hands cup his cheeks, steadying him. When he pulls away, his eyes are glazed and his lips deliciously red. “Believe it,” Ten says.

“I don’t know. Maybe try to convince me again,” Kun whispers, so Ten kisses him again, and again, and again.

.

“What even are these notes?” Ten sobs over Kun’s laptop keyboard as he scrolls up and down the pages of notes Kun has collected in their shared lecture. “I was late by ten minutes and he covered this much?”

“He said it’s all on the exam,” Kun offers sympathetically. 

Ten wails again and lays his head down on the table between them. “I’m done for.”

“You’re not. You’ll be fine,” Kun insists. He hears his name being called at the counter and stands to go pick it up, but not before scratching Ten behind his ears. 

He picks up his drink and takes a sip, wrinkling his nose and frowning at the taste. It’s wrong. Again. They’ve also spelled his name “CUN” which, so closely written next to the logo, could easily be mistaken for another word. He approaches the counter again, clearing his throat.

“Excuse me?” He catches the attention of a young barista who hastily apologizes and fixes him another drink, the right one, and hands it over to him. “Thank you.”

“Let me guess,” Ten says when Kun arrives back at their table with his drink in hand. “A white chocolate mocha instead of your drink?”

Kun grins. “Nope.”

“A caramel latte, but with almond milk?”

“Nope.”

Ten raises his eyebrows. “They got it right? It’s a miracle…”

“No, I just asked them to remake it,” Kun says, sitting down.

“Oh my god, I’m so proud of you, baby.” Ten does look genuinely proud, his mouth open in awe and his eyes glittering, and Kun tucks away the feeling building in his chest for further exploration later tonight in Ten’s apartment. “Now walk me through this scenario. How the hell am I going to pass this exam…”

Kun shifts his seat over so that they’re sitting side by side and explains his notes, line by line. He doesn’t miss the way Ten curls his fingers over Kun’s under the table, nor the way he looks at him as Kun does his best to recall the professor’s words, like he can’t quite believe what he’s got in front of him.

“Are you listening?” Kun asks, grinning.

“Not really,” Ten responds.

“Ten!”

“Sorry,” Ten says, not looking very sorry at all. “Sorry, start over. I’m listening this time. I promise.”

.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked it! comments and kudos appreciated! 
> 
> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/andnowforyaya) | [my cc](http://curiouscat.me/andnowforyaya)


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